


The Time-Traveler's Kismesis: Counterthesis

by Elizabeth Culmer (edenfalling)



Series: Ancestral Nights [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ancestor-Era, Arguing, Black Romance, Challenges, F/F, Fate & Destiny, Female-Centric, Fifteen Minute Fic, Foreshadowing, Gen, Implied Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 07:17:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2220354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edenfalling/pseuds/Elizabeth%20Culmer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shortly after the Dolorosa flees the brooding caverns with the Signless, she meets the Demoness for the second time... at least from her perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Time-Traveler's Kismesis: Counterthesis

**Author's Note:**

> Back in 2013 I had a story idea for the Ladystuck Dark challenge, which I called "The Time-Traveler's Kismesis." It was born from a couple stories I'd seen that had the Demoness tracking the Condesce through her life, and hating her passionately. And I thought, yeah, that works... but the thing the Demoness would hate most isn't casual entitlement. It's _hope_. And the person who has that, the one who tries to change the world for the better, and most particularly the one who also has personal experience with slavery, is the Dolorosa. The Demoness knows nothing is ever going to change. Nothing will ever matter. And the Dolorosa, despite being caste-bound into a form of servitude, and having her son killed in front of her and his movement destroyed, and being mind-controlled and raped, keeps on going.
> 
> I never did write that story. But this is one of the scenes that would go into it. Inspired by the 8/24/14 [15_minute_ficlets](http://15_minute_ficlets.dreamwidth.org) word #200.

The Demoness is waiting at the crossroads. You don't slow down. You can't afford to waste time and it would be foolish to show fear. But you wrap the grub more firmly in your spare skirt as you approach.

You turn off the wide main road and take the narrow path into the wilderness. The Demoness falls into step beside you, as casually as one old hatefriend meeting another.

If you didn't know her, you would never guess her name and function, not with her wands and her magic hidden away. Her horns are impressive, her posture unsubmissive, and the color of her dress borderline illegal, but those descriptions apply to many lowbloods. The Condesce's attention has turned away from Alternia this past century, since the improvement in helmsblock technology that let your people expand to the stars. The planet is restive without her strong hand.

The Demoness is a harbinger of chaos. Small wonder she walks the world these nights.

You do wonder, though, at her interest in you. She is immortal, second in power only to Death himself. Surely there are other, greater challenges within her reach. Yet here she is, walking close enough to touch, refusing to explain her presence though simple courtesy dictates that she -- as the interloper -- should justify herself to you.

You grind your teeth and vow not to break the silence first.

The path curves and reverses like a slitherbeast, carving its way uphill through trees and weathered stone. At the ridge, you steal one glance back toward the lush, blue-green valley you have called home for a dozen sweeps. Smoke still rises faintly from the scars of the recent meteorite impacts, but you cannot see the blasted ground itself. You cannot see the cave mouths.

You vowed to spend the rest of your life in that valley.

You are making a habit of breaking vows tonight.

"I took your advice," you tell the Demoness as you and she begin the descent into the neighboring valley.

She turns toward you, raises one mocking eyebrow.

You bite back the impulse to hiss. You are carrying a grub. Other trolls might pass along the road. You can fight with words alone.

"You said that I was a coward. You said that I didn't truly believe in freedom and choices because I didn't fight when I was sent to the brooding caverns. You said that nothing I did would change anything anyway, no matter how many weak grubs I coddled. You said that if I ever had a chance to save someone, I would be too weak to make a difference. Well, you were wrong. I'm not a coward, I did save this grub, and I am going to make a difference. I'm going to change this world until it's more than Death's playground, and you can't stop me."

The Demoness bares her teeth in a vicious smile. "I won't lie on the night I tell you those things, Porrim Maryam, forsworn grubwarden of the Bluevale Caverns. Nothing you try will ever unseat my Master from his throne. Your life was futile before it began. If you refuse to see this truth, you are blind. All your sorrow will spend to silence, and I will spit upon your grave."

Some stories claim the Demoness is a mistress of time, that she slips between the ticks of the clock and the sands of the hourglass, that she sees the rot within each seed.

You don't care.

You don't believe in fate. And even if there is a mold into which your life is shaped, it matters _how_ you live. There is no meaning except the meaning you create, the meaning you share between yourself and those you love and hate.

"I will prove you wrong," you say. Your arms tighten around the forbidden scarlet grub, and your smile is as sharp and poison-edged as the one you meet. "And when I win, you won't have a Master. The only grave will be his own."

You see hatred flare to life in her deadened eyes. You hold your breath, heart racing as you await her answer, whether words or something harsher, sweeter, sharper. You are holding a grub. Other trolls might pass along the road. You no longer care.

She vanishes in a crackle of lime.

You hiss in scorn at her cowardice. All that power, all that knowledge, and she flees without a counterstroke.

She fled the last time, too -- vanished before sunset, as if she had never been in your vigil cave at all. You wondered for nights if she had been a vivid hallucination, if the marks on your body were from your own claws.

This time, you know she'll return.

The grub stirs in your arms. You stroke a finger along its stubby, rounded horn and hurry on your way. The sun is rising beyond the eastern hills, and you cannot afford to die here and now. You have a world to change. You told the Demoness you would.

And that vow, unlike others, you mean to keep.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Time-Traveler's Kismesis: Counterthesis (The Troll Out Of Time Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7572568) by [kismetNemesis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kismetNemesis/pseuds/kismetNemesis)




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